


Star

by fuzipenguin



Series: Trending on the Edge [20]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Bukkake, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Double Penetration in One Hole, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Sunstreaker is the star of this show, but he actually doesn't really like being the center of attention





	Star

               “Do you know how many overloads you’ve had?” Sideswipe asked idly.

                Sunstreaker’s optics widened, and he stared at Sideswipe, panicking a little. Had he been supposed to count?!

                “Oh, no, love,” Sideswipe immediately said once he saw Sunstreaker’s expression. “You didn’t forget anything; I never told you to keep track. But I’ve been for the fun of it. So… any idea?”

                As the mech behind him started thrusting faster in their own impending overload, all Sunstreaker could do was shake his head. He had no idea how many times he’d climaxed… or how many times Bluestreak, Ratchet, and Jazz had each overloaded inside of him.

                “Seven,” Sideswipe said, smiling faintly. He reached out and stroked the curve of Sunstreaker’s cheek. Sunstreaker’s whole frame lit up at the soft touch, and his engine purred throatily.

                “Oh. Thank you, Sir,” Sunstreaker murmured, shuddering as the mech behind him faltered in their rhythm before shoving in deep. He felt their spike pulse, depositing another load of transfluid inside him.

                Sunstreaker didn’t look at the mech behind him to identify him, nor had he at all this entire time. He didn’t want to. He only wanted to acknowledge the sensation of a spike plunging deep into him, raking over the nodes behind his nub. At this angle, every thrust was an intense sensation; it had been a fight to keep his gaze locked on Sideswipe’s face as instructed.

                Sideswipe, who hadn’t touched him beyond guiding him facedown onto the desk. Who had watched him from his seat at the head of the sturdy piece of furniture, occasionally reaching out to stroke Sunstreaker’s face or squeeze Sunstreaker’s hand when the pleasure had threatened to overwhelm him.

                “Are you feeling good?” Sideswipe asked, the pad of his thumb running over Sunstreaker’s lower lip. Sunstreaker’s optic shutters fluttered at the touch and he dared to swipe his glossa out after Sideswipe’s digit.

                “Yes,” Sunstreaker sighed as the mech behind him switched out with someone else. Wide palms grasped Sunstreaker’s hips and without any other preamble, another spike pushed into him, forcing a groan out from between his lips. A rapid pace quickly had heat blooming in his lower abdomen, his frame tightening.

                Sideswipe smirked a little. “Yeah, I’m sure. Not far off from eight, are you?”

                Sunstreaker dug his fingers into the edges of the desk, and he let his chin rest on the surface. The pleasure centering in Sunstreaker’s valve made the rest of him weak, and he couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

                The only answer he could give his brother was a guttural moan as the eighth overload washed over Sunstreaker. The entire time, he kept his gaze locked on Sideswipe, even through slitted optic shutters. He would obey. He was good at obeying.

                 Sideswipe leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. A look of pride settled onto his face. He was a master by now of controlling his expressions. The fact that he allowed this one to show meant he _wanted_ Sunstreaker to know how he felt.

                Sunstreaker had been nervous about this session, even though the two of them had played with Jazz, Bluestreak, and Ratchet individually in the past. They’d also done a handful of group sessions, but Sunstreaker had always been on the periphery, usually with Sideswipe right next to him.

                Sideswipe had rationalized to Sunstreaker that the other three mechs were merely tools Sideswipe would use to pleasure Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker didn’t have to pay them any attention, only _feel_ and keep his optics on Sideswipe.

                Well, success so far, if eight overloads were to gauge by.

                It didn’t take long for Sunstreaker to descend back into a pleasant haze. His body was spiked over and over again, but Sideswipe was there to ensure it was less that they were using _him_ and more that he was benefiting from _them_.

                He didn’t know how long it would have gone on for. Maybe a dozen overloads. But between one and the next, Sunstreaker shifted just slightly and felt wetness seep into his right stifle joint. He surfaced enough to realize his pelvis and lower abdomen were soaked from the fluids seeping out of his valve.

                And Sideswipe was nowhere near it. Hadn’t been all evening.

                A small noise escaped him, but nothing like the pleasured whimpers and cries he had previously uttered. A moment later, he felt a light touch on his cheek and he opened optics he realized he had shut.

                Despite his disobedience, Sideswipe didn’t look upset with him. In fact, he looked concerned.

                “… Sunstreaker?” Sideswipe asked, gaze critically roving over Sunstreaker’s frame, searching.

                “Yellow!” Sunstreaker blurted, without thinking. Sideswipe stiffened and the mech behind Sunstreaker froze, spike halfway sunk into Sunstreaker’s valve.

                “What is it, love?” Sideswipe asked, crouching down so he was at optic level.

                “I…” Sunstreaker’s mind blanked. How could he put it into words? “It…”

                Sunstreaker stammered for a half a minute before Sideswipe reached out and placed a hand on top of Sunstreaker’s helm. Sunstreaker’s mouth snapped shut.

                “Maybe it would help if we took that distracting toy out of you, hmm? Then you can sit up.”

                Sunstreaker nodded vigorously and within seconds, his valve was blessedly empty. Except for the copious amounts of transfluid now trickling out of it.

                Shuddering, Sunstreaker pushed himself up onto his elbows, and then his palms. Cooling fans whining a protest, Sunstreaker squirmed on the desk, slipping a little in the puddle beneath him. He finally managed to sit up straight, his pedes just brushing the floor. When he went to stand, Sideswipe placed his hands on Sunstreaker’s shoulders, keeping him in place.

                “It’s ok, take a moment, Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe instructed, gently stroking down his arms. “What’s bothering you, then?”

                “It’s…” Sunstreaker looked down and gestured at his lap. Then he tore his optics away from the mess of his thighs, fixing his gaze on his twin’s face. “It’s not you. It’s… it’s them… I’m… I’m… it’s not right. Not yours. Not right.”

                Sunstreaker shook his head in frustration, the haze still present enough to make his words incoherent. Fortunately, Sideswipe was well versed in translating Sunstreaker, especially mid-session.

                “Ahh…” Sideswipe said, nodding thoughtfully. He looked over to his right, a little behind Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “Ratch? Can we borrow your ‘racks for a while?”

                “Absolutely. Need anything else?”

                Ratchet’s voice moved steadily closer, and Sunstreaker turned his head and fell forward, hiding his face against Sideswipe’s shoulder. Hearing someone else was bad enough; he didn’t want to _see_ the other mech as well. It would make everything more real.

                “Naw, I think we’re good. Just need a little reassessment, see where Sunny stands. I’m sure you boys can manage without us for a while, right?”

                Sideswipe’s voice was silky and suggestive, but the hand running up and down the back of Sunstreaker’s neck was nothing but gentle.

                “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Ratchet rumbled. There was a creak of joints and then Sunstreaker heard the sound of pedesteps moving away. Sunstreaker relaxed under Sideswipe’s hand and let him nudge him back into a seated position.

                “I’m gonna wipe you down a little so you’re not dripping the whole way there, ok?” Sideswipe asked. At Sunstreaker’s nod, he slid his hands between Sunstreaker’s knees and spread them apart. He pulled a soft towel from subspace and started wiping at Sunstreaker’s inner thighs, soaking up some of the mingled fluids that were staining his plating.

                Sideswipe hummed a little as he worked and Sunstreaker focused in on his twin’s face. His expression was bland, no signs of irritation at Sunstreaker’s ask for a pause. Not that Sideswipe had ever been upset on the few rare occasions Sunstreaker had needed to. But he still felt as if he had disappointed his master.

                “It’s all right,” Sideswipe murmured, proving his twin could read minds. “I’m not mad at you. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me you needed to stop for a bit. We’ll get you straightened up and go from there, ok?”

                He tossed the towel onto the desk and held out his hand. Sunstreaker took it, eagerly hopping off the berth and standing. He gazed into Sideswipe’s optics, a mirror of his own.

                “Yes, Sir,” he said obediently, feeling reassured by the sure grip Sideswipe had on him. Sunstreaker meekly followed Sideswipe into the washroom and then into the small shower stall. He produced a wordless noise of joy as Sideswipe started up the cleanser. It poured down over their shoulders and Sunstreaker relaxed into the soothing warmth. After a minute, Sideswipe removed the detachable head and started aiming the stream at Sunstreaker’s lower half.  

                “I think there’s transfluid in your knee joints,” Sideswipe commented. “Definitely your hips.”

                “ _Yes_ ,” Sunstreaker replied gratefully, seeing that Sideswipe understood. “Please… I…”

                “Shhh… don’t worry. It’ll be gone soon. What exactly about this bothered you, Sunstreaker?” Sideswipe asked softly, methodically spraying Sunstreaker’s plating. Sunstreaker automatically fluffed the plates, allowing Sideswipe to direct the stream under his armor.

                “I… they were covering you up,” Sunstreaker said.

                It was the best way he could describe it. No matter how much Sunstreaker pretended the other three mechs were just a really good toy, the evidence of transfluid gumming up his joints said otherwise. Ant it was one thing if it had been Sideswipe’s transfluid. But it wasn’t. It was others’. They were marking him, claiming him. And he didn’t belong to them.

                “Don’t worry, love. I’ll make it clear that you’re mine,” Sideswipe purred, stepping in close. He nuzzled Sunstreaker’s cheek as he directed the cleanser stream at the apex of Sunstreaker’s valve.  

                Sunstreaker gasped at the sudden influx of sensation, knees wobbling. He reached out behind him, grasping at the wall for support. “Sir…”

                “But first…” Sideswipe whispered, brushing a kiss against the corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth. “Demonstrate how you belong to me.”

                Sideswipe’s hand moved downwards and the spray moved with it, pulsing hotly against Sunstreaker’s nub. He groaned, hips tilting forward and legs spreading to more fully expose himself to the delicious feel of the tiny streams of cleanser pounding against his anterior node.

                “Sir… what… how… how many…?” Sunstreaker moaned, finally giving in and leaning back against the wall. Sideswipe crowded up against his side, optics dark as he hungrily watched Sunstreaker’s face.

                “Overloads? You had ten. What about the eleventh? You gonna give that away to someone else? Or is it mine?” Sideswipe growled, shoving the shower head directly against Sunstreaker’s array.

                Sunstreaker shouted wordlessly, the back of his head slamming against the wall as his frame seized under the intense bliss. His node had already been swollen and a little sensitive from the multiple spikings. The heat and pulse of the cleanser just ramped his charge up to practically unbearable.

                “Yours!” Sunstreaker choked out, his hands scrambling at Sideswipe’s shoulders. “It’s yours!”

                “I wanna hear it. I want _them_ to hear it,” Sideswipe whispered fiercely, grinding the shower head against Sunstreaker’s array. “Come for me, love.”

                Sunstreaker’s hips bucked upwards once and then he cried out a mangled version of his twin’s name as overload slammed into him. It made his optics white out for a split second before he rapidly blinked, trying to reboot them. He sagged against the wall, only Sideswipe’s hands around his waist keeping him upright.

                When his audials flickered back on, he heard Sideswipe murmuring against the nearest one. Endearments and encouragements, every other word ‘mine’. Sunstreaker moaned quietly and leaned into Sideswipe’s frame, tilting his head to the side as Sideswipe started kissing his throat

                “So beautiful…” Sideswipe murmured. Somewhere along the line, he had turned the shower to just water and was washing the cleanser off Sunstreaker’s frame. It made him shiver when the rivulets trickled over his still pulsing valve. Sideswipe drew back a little, letting Sunstreaker find his feet and rinsing him off the rest of the way.

                “You know what else would look good?”

                Sunstreaker muzzily looked at his twin, wafts of steam drifting up from his heated plating. As he tried to reply, he found that words were still difficult. “Mm?”

                Leaning to the side, Sideswipe hooked the shower head up and turned off the water. He snatched up one of the towels hanging on the rack and began gently wiping up the water beading up on Sunstreaker’s armor.

                “I think my transfluid would look good dripping down your face,” Sideswipe answered and Sunstreaker finally realized that Sideswipe’s spike was exposed. Optics focused on it, Sunstreaker dropped down to his knees, reverently placing his hands on Sideswipe’s upper thighs.

                “Hey… I wasn’t finished,” Sideswipe protested with a smirk. “You’d rather something else than finishing drying off?”

                Instead of answering, Sunstreaker leaned forward and mouthed at the underside of Sideswipe’s spike, looking up at his twin with pleading optics. Sunstreaker was clean now, but that just meant he was completely unmarked. He wanted it visible to the others that he was Sideswipe’s.

                “I guess you do,” Sideswipe murmured. He took hold of his spike, sliding the tip across Sunstreaker’s slightly parted lips. His glossa flicked out, registering just the tiny hint of transfluid.

                “Please, Sir… overload on my face?” Sunstreaker asked faintly. Sideswipe shuffled back a half step, his hand sliding from the base of his spike to the tip where he fondled the head.

                “Is that what you want?” Sideswipe asked. He stroked back down his length and then got into a rhythm. It didn’t look like Sideswipe was going to let Sunstreaker service him, but he could live with that as long as the end result was the same.

                “Yes… yes, please…” Sunstreaker said, licking his lips. His hands restlessly petted Sideswipe’s thighs, thumbs tracing the inner armor seam running the length of the plating there.

                Sideswipe sighed a little, optic shutters slipping partway closed. “I think I’m gonna take you out of rotation for the rest of the night,” he murmured. “I still want to play with you and they can watch, but that’ll be it for the most part.”

                Sunstreaker nodded happily. That suited him just fine. While enjoyable at first, he’d had enough of all the foreign hands on him.  

                “Yes, Sir. I would like that, Sir,” Sunstreaker replied, gaze flicking down to Sideswipe’s hand. It was moving faster, a drop of pre-transfluid beading up at the tip of Sideswipe’s spike. Sunstreaker’s head darted forward and he licked it up, humming softly. Sideswipe swore quietly, his other hand reaching out and landing on top of Sunstreaker’s helm.

                Nudging up into Sideswipe’s palm, Sunstreaker purred. Between his legs, his valve throbbed, still primed from its many overloads. He wanted Sideswipe’s spill in him too; if he was good, Sideswipe might frag him, climax inside of Sunstreaker. It would eventually leak out, staining his thighs and completing Sideswipe’s claim.

                Sunstreaker whimpered at the thought and he turned his head, nuzzling up against Sideswipe’s fingers. Sideswipe caressed the side of Sunstreaker’s face, digit tips trailing down his cheek. His glossa flicked out and he licked at Sideswipe’s index finger before sucking on the tip of it.

                Sideswipe groaned quietly, optics dark as he stared intently down at Sunstreaker. Drawing the finger deeper into Sunstreaker’s mouth, he met Sideswipe’s stare, mentally willing his brother to tip over the edge. Sunstreaker could tell he was close; it was honestly a little surprising that Sideswipe had held off as long as he had what with having a front row seat to Sunstreaker’s show.

                “Please… please, Sir…” Sunstreaker whispered, releasing Sideswipe’s finger. “Mark me… mark me as yours?”

                Sideswipe’s engine hiccupped and then turned over with a roar. Seconds later, his hips jerked and thick spurts of transfluid shot out of his spike. Sunstreaker reflexively shut his optics and savored each splash of liquid that landed on his cheeks and mouth. Moaning excitedly, Sunstreaker repeatedly licked his lips, eagerly swallowing what small drops he managed to capture.

                “I think… that ought to be… pretty obvious, yeah?” Sideswipe panted. He grasped Sunstreaker’s chin and turned his head, forcing Sunstreaker to look at himself in the mirror.

                Sunstreaker had a hard time looking away. He’d never seen himself during a session before and it was… intriguing. His optics were soft and hazy, entire frame loose and open. Transfluid fluid dripped down his cheeks, staining his lips. He looked utterly debauched.

                “…oh…” he said softly.

                “Mm… I should honestly get a medal for keeping my hands off you for as long as I did tonight. Or in general,” Sideswipe said, stroking a hand down Sunstreaker’s throat.

                “I like your hands on me,” Sunstreaker replied. He watched his optics partly lid as he tilted his head back for Sideswipe’s fingers to have more room. Sideswipe took a step to the side, then behind Sunstreaker. He tilted Sunstreaker’s chin up further, until the back of Sunstreaker’s helm rested against Sideswipe’s lower belly. Sideswipe’s fingers slowly curled around Sunstreaker’s throat and squeezed as their optics met.

                “I like my hands on you too,” Sideswipe murmured in response.

                Sunstreaker slanted his gaze downwards, just barely glimpsing the two of them in the mirror. It looked like Sideswipe was supporting him completely, as if it was only Sideswipe’s grip around Sunstreaker’s neck that was keeping him upright.

                “I also like everyone else seeing my hands on you. Are you about ready to rejoin the others?” Sideswipe asked, releasing Sunstreaker’s throat just seconds before his HUD started giving him critical warnings.

                Pity.

                “No,” Sunstreaker said truthfully, voice slightly hoarse. “But I will. Just so you can show me off, Sir.”

                Sideswipe chuckled, stepping around to Sunstreaker’s front and helping him to his feet. “Oh love, I will definitely be showing you off. Follow me, please.”

                Sideswipe led Sunstreaker back out into the main room. It was immediately evident that the other three participants in the evening’s festivities had managed to occupy themselves just fine. Jazz was practically buried beneath Ratchet’s and Bluestreak’s frames, voice warbling as he repeatedly cried out.

                The bed wasn’t Sideswipe’s end destination however. He moved led them over to a wide, cloth-covered chair in the corner and turned it to face the bed. Once he plopped down into it, Sideswipe gestured for Sunstreaker to approach and indicated he wanted Sunstreaker on his knees.

                Fine by him. It put him at optic level to Sideswipe’s still exposed interface array. Once he settled, he immediately nuzzled Sideswipe’s closest inner thigh, slanting a glance up at his brother’s face. Sideswipe kept his gaze on the writhing bodies on the bed, but did let his knees sprawl open to give Sunstreaker more room in wordless explicit permission.  

                Humming happily, Sunstreaker worked his way closer to Sideswipe’s center, licking and kissing the warmed plating until his glossa made contact with the first smear of lubricant. He followed it to the source, Sideswipe’s damp valve. Sighing, he let his optics slipped closed and focused on the wet and pliable folds beneath his lips.

                Sunstreaker serviced Sideswipe’s valve for several wonderfully hazy minutes. His glossa would occasionally flit over Sideswipe’s anterior node, but he mainly nibbled at the pleats and lapped up each fresh trickle of lubricant as it drizzled forth. Every few seconds, he would dip into Sideswipe’s entrance, curling his glossa around the rim to seek out the minor nodes that lined the inside.

                The trio in the corner were loud, masking the soft sounds Sideswipe started making. But Sunstreaker could feel the pitch of Sideswipe’s engine from where he was pressed against Sideswipe’s thighs. He definitely wasn’t unaffected by Sunstreaker’s attentions.

                In fact, a hand settled on Sunstreaker’s helm and gently directed Sunstreaker’s mouth higher, centering it over Sideswipe’s node. The slippery piece of metal throbbed with every beat of Sideswipe’s spark and as Sunstreaker gently suckled at it, he could feel that beat speed up.

                Sideswipe shifted to drape his left thigh over the arm of the chair, breaking Sunstreaker out of his trance. Lips still working, he glanced upward to see Sideswipe staring down at him. His optics were bright, the lines of his face relaxed under the pleasure.

                “Get me off,” Sideswipe instructed quietly, stroking over the back of Sunstreaker’s helm to his right vent. He firmly pinched the top most slat, the bright burst of pain sweetly complimenting the empty ache in Sunstreaker’s valve.

                “Make me overload and then I’ll let you ride me,” Sideswipe asked. He smiled a little when Sunstreaker immediately started sucking harder. “Bet you’d love to have my load dripping down your thighs, wouldn’t you?”

                Sunstreaker’s optic shutters fluttered at the enticing thought he himself had already considered, and he nodded. He drew his lips back and gently bit at Sideswipe’s node, soothing the sting with a gentle pass of his glossa before doing it again.

                Sideswipe’s optics lidded until only a sliver of blue peeked out from between the shutters. He let his head rest against the chair back and slouched even further. Now his engine was loud enough that Sunstreaker could both feel and hear it.

                A quiet moan trickled down to Sunstreaker’s audials and he redoubled his efforts with his glossa and denta. Sideswipe hadn’t told him to only use his mouth, so Sunstreaker snuck two fingers up to the rim of Sideswipe’s valve and then slid them in. There was practically no friction due to the amount of lubricants present.

                Sideswipe’s calipers clutched at them so hungrily that Sunstreaker took pity and inserted a third digit. He curled the tips of his fingers and rubbed at the soft metalmesh behind the anterior node. Sucking at the nubbin in the same rhythm his fingers were moving in soon had Sideswipe’s hips restlessly rocking up against Sunstreaker’s mouth.

                “Yessss, baby, that’s it,” Sideswipe moaned, biting at his lower lip on a particularly hard suck. “C’mon, just a little bit more… almost…”

                Sunstreaker growled when another rush of slick bathed his fingers and his free hand slid to the small of Sideswipe’s back. He pressed on it, tilting Sideswipe’s pelvis up even further.

                “Oh… yeah… c’mon, give it to me!” Sideswipe said in rushed babble of words. Sunstreaker gave the node a sharp nip and then sucked hard on it, his fingers rubbing furiously.

                Sideswipe’s entire body trembled, held on the edge for one lasting moment. Then he tumbled down the other side, crying out Sunstreaker’s name. Sunstreaker smiled in triumph against Sideswipe’s valve, gentling the motions of his lips and fingers until he was almost absently running his digits through Sideswipe’s folds.

                “Mmmm… that was _good_ , Sunstreaker. Thank you,” Sideswipe murmured, stretching his entire frame once before settling back down onto the seat. He peered down the length of his body at Sunstreaker, now resting his chin on Sideswipe’s thigh. Sideswipe’s other leg shakily dropped down from the arm rest and the heel of his pede slid around Sunstreaker’s back, nudging.

                “Get up here so I can give you your reward,” he purred. The palm of his hand smoothed over Sunstreaker’s forehelm and then grasped a helm vent to tug it.

                Sunstreaker went eagerly, valve clenching on nothing with a throb. Sideswipe’s fingers trailed down Sunstreaker’s face as he moved, ending up half cradling, half holding Sunstreaker’s chin. Using his grip, Sideswipe directed Sunstreaker’s face downwards until their lips pressed together. It was an awkward position, bent over Sideswipe’s lap with his aft in the air, but Sunstreaker couldn’t help but moan into Sideswipe’s mouth as his brother’s glossa quickly turned the chaste peck into something filthy.

                “Fuck, you’re so _hot,_ ” Sideswipe murmured against Sunstreaker’s lips. He licked his way deeper into Sunstreaker’s mouth, seemingly determined to lap up every particle of himself.

                Sideswipe’s hand slid down the side of Sunstreaker’s throat and grasped his upper arm. He blindly pulled Sunstreaker down atop his thighs, his other hand fumbling between them. As the back of Sideswipe’s knuckles brushed against Sunstreaker’s valve, he realized Sideswipe was stroking his spike. Then something firm nudged at the entrance to his valve.

                Sunstreaker automatically tilted his hips to line himself up. He broke away from the kiss to whine against Sideswipe’s cheek as he slowly let himself slide down Sideswipe’s spike, his haptic net lighting up as it registered heat and pressure filling up every inch of him. Once he was completely seated, he collapsed against Sideswipe’s chest, forehelm resting on his twin’s shoulder. He took a moment to savor the feeling in his interface array, somehow a completely different sensation than from any of the other mechs he’d taken tonight.

                “That feel better?” Sideswipe said against Sunstreaker’s audial.

                Sunstreaker groaned faintly, nodding. He gently swiveled his hips and they both gasped, Sideswipe clutching at Sunstreaker’s waist in response.

                “I love how you feel inside me, Sir,” Sunstreaker whispered. Feeling weak, he rolled his head to the side and blearily witnessed an avid gaze watching them.

                Suddenly shy, Sunstreaker drew back enough so he could duck his head down onto Sideswipe’s other shoulder. He hid his face in Sideswipe’s throat, his back hunching.

                “Oh now, what’s this? I thought you wanted them to see me with you?” Sideswipe murmured, gently stroking his hands up Sunstreaker’s back. His fingertips used just enough pressure to make Sunstreaker reflexively arch backwards into the touch. As he sat up, he very carefully started straight ahead, doing his best to ignore Bluestreak’s optics.

                “I do, I…” Sunstreaker fell silent, a loss for words. “I just…”

                While he definitely wanted the others to see Sideswipe staking his claim, it was intimidating to have others’ optics on him like this. Despite what everyone said about him, he didn’t actually like being the center of attention. When he had his back turned during a session, it was one thing. It was completely another to meet someone else’s gaze.  

                Sideswipe nodded, reaching up to cradle Sunstreaker’s cheek in one warm palm. Sunstreaker nuzzled it, hips rocking again. It was getting to the point where the sensation of being filled wasn’t enough any longer. He wanted more.

                “It’s ok, love. Just ignore them. Focus on me.” Sideswipe’s lips curved up in a devilish smirk, one that shot tingles of excitement through Sunstreaker. Sideswipe bucked up and Sunstreaker clutched at Sideswipe’s shoulders so as to not fall off his twin’s lap.

                “I should think my spike is enough to keep your attention, right?” Sideswipe asked pointedly.

                Sunstreaker nodded rapidly, taking the hint and grinding more earnestly. “Yes, Sir. It is,” Sunstreaker replied faintly.

                Oh, it definitely was. Sunstreaker lifted himself up and then dropped back down, quickly getting into a rhythm. His spark started beating faster at the flush of pleasure slowly suffusing him, thighs straining to continually raise and lower his not insignificant mass.

                “That’s it,” Sideswipe murmured, stroking his hands down Sunstreaker’s sides. “Look at you. You’re so damn sexy, Sunstreaker. You’re gonna get me to come in no time.”

                And then Sunstreaker’d be carrying Sideswipe’s mark, both inside and out. His rhythm picked up speed at the thought, eager for that warm rush of fluids hitting the back of his valve. It would eventually trickle out, painting his array and thighs and he _wanted_ it… wanted the others to see it. Then, and only then, would he be able to look them straight in the optic and not cower under their gaze.

                At that point, they could look all they wanted, but it would be in vain, because they would all know he belonged to.

                Sunstreaker ducked back down and urgently kissed his brother, desperate sounds bubbling up in the back of his throat. Sideswipe matched his ferocity and then tempered it, gentling the kiss to leisurely little licks to Sunstreaker’s lips.          

                “Shhh…” Sideswipe said against Sunstreaker’s mouth. “Shh… I’m not going anywhere. You’ll get what you want… they’ll see… they’ll know…”

                Sunstreaker loved how Sideswipe always knew him. Oh, he wasn’t perfect, but it was uncanny how easily he could read Sunstreaker during a session.

                “Please… please, Sir,” Sunstreaker mumbled, optics shut as he chased down the pleasure coiling up tight in his lower abdomen.

                “Oh, baby, I know. Soon, my sweet. And don’t worry about holding out; I wanna feel you clench around me. I want that ripple to send me over,” Sideswipe murmured, his fingers gently kneading the plating on Sunstreaker’s thighs.

                Primus. One of these days, Sunstreaker was going to overload from Sideswipe’s voice alone.

                Sunstreaker groaned, his hands slipping from Sideswipe’s shoulders to the back of the chair. It tilted him forward just enough that it rubbed the head of his pressurized spike against Sideswipe’s belly, adding to the influx of sensations.

                “Keep… keep talking, please, Sir?” Sunstreaker asked, hips working urgently. Sideswipe snorted out a quiet laugh.

                “Well, that’s gotta be a first. What do you want me to talk about, lover?” Sideswipe purred, nuzzling Sunstreaker’s chest. His glossa flicked out, tracing the central seam of Sunstreaker’s armor and his engine sputtered for a moment before resuming its smooth run. They didn’t do a lot of spark play during sessions as Sideswipe was adamant that was something they should do as equals. They had certainly never done it in a group session before and the prospect sent an illicit thrill through him.

                “Want me to talk about how good you feel around me? About…nnngh… yeah… how warm and tight you are? …slag! Do that again!” Sideswipe instructed when Sunstreaker slammed down and ground his hips in a little figure eight, trying to get some contact with his anterior node. While Sunstreaker _could_ overload without anterior node stimulation, it took a bit longer.

                Sunstreaker complied, loving the feeling of Sideswipe’s spike so deep in him, the head rubbing against Sunstreaker’s ceiling node.

                “Mmmm… they’re watching. All three of them, watching,” Sideswipe murmured, reaching between them to loosely grasp Sunstreaker’s spike. It made the perfect channel for him to thrust into, sending a shudder throughout his entire body as his approaching overload picked up speed.

                “Because you’re… the hottest thing… in this room,” Sideswipe panted, his pelvis starting to push up in little thrusts. “Of course… they can’t have you. Do you… do you know why?”

                Sunstreaker whined desperately, processor awash with pleasure. It all felt so good, and by now, he was so lost in it that he didn’t care he was putting on a show for the others. He just wanted to overload… and to bring Sideswipe with him.

                “…’cause I… I’m yours!” Sunstreaker cried out, gasping as Sideswipe suddenly dug the fingers of his left hand into Sunstreaker’s waist.

                “Fuck _yeah,_ you are,” Sideswipe snarled, sitting up enough to latch his denta into the delicate substructures of Sunstreaker’s throat. He bit down, compressing both a coolant and energon line, the sudden pain the added stimulation needed to tip Sunstreaker over into climax.

                He slammed down onto Sideswipe’s spike, thighs spreading as far as the chair’s arms would allow. He rocked back and forth several times, each grind of his anterior node against Sideswipe’s lower abdomen firing off hot bursts of pleasure. Sunstreaker dimly realized his spike had overloaded too, Sideswipe’s grip tighter now, his thumb gently rubbing beneath the sensitive tip.

                “Beautiful….” Sideswipe whispered brokenly, pressing his face against Sunstreaker’s collar fairing. He released Sunstreaker’s spike and held onto his waist instead, using his grip to keep Sunstreaker steady as he thrust up into him several times. Sideswipe didn’t have enough room to make more than short little stabs, but that combined with Sunstreaker’s fluttering valve was enough.

                As Sideswipe moaned through his overload, Sunstreaker’s back arched, head rising up to stare blindly at the ceiling. He could feel each and every pulse of his twin’s spike against his ceiling node, his valve registering a delicious fullness. He fully gave himself up to the sensation, so much so that he wobbled atop Sideswipe’s lap, on the verge of falling off.  

                “Woah, there, love. Come on back to me, just a little.” Sideswipe’s voice came from far away and Sunstreaker reluctantly followed its instructions, hardwired to obey.

                He blinked his optics open, Sideswipe’s familiar red a scant millimeter away. He was now slumped against Sideswipe’s chest, face smashed into his shoulder. One of Sideswipe’s hands pressed against his lower back and the other cradled his nape.

                “Mmph?” Sunstreaker asked, the best he could do. His limbs felt all liquidy and soft, and Sideswipe was there to support him in a session, right? Both mentally _and_ physically?

                “Hey, there.” Sideswipe’s voice was soothing and Sunstreaker relaxed even further into his twin. “That was a good one, huh? You get what you needed?”

                What he had needed again?

                Oh!

                Sunstreaker forced himself to sit up, using one hand on Sideswipe’s shoulder to help keep his balance. He carefully rose up off Sideswipe’s spike and stayed in a crouch over his brother’s lap as he plunged two fingers into his valve. He withdrew the digits to see them liberally covered in the silvery sheen of transfluid. He hummed to himself, pleased.

                “Thank you, Sir,” Sunstreaker said, truly grateful. He collapsed back down on top of Sideswipe, his twin emitting a quiet ‘oof’ as Sunstreaker settled his weight between the arm rest and Sideswipe’s side. Sideswipe squirmed over so that Sunstreaker had a bit more room and then threw an arm around Sunstreaker’s shoulder, pulling him in halfway atop Sideswipe’s chest.

                Sunstreaker nuzzled into the side of Sideswipe’s neck, his hand continually petting his own valve, smearing the transfluid around in little circular passes. He felt amazing: body singing from the duel overload and his head pleasantly empty.

                He absently looked up and over at the bed, observing Jazz in Bluestreak’s lap. Jazz had his head slung back, resting on Bluestreak’s shoulder as Bluestreak stroked him through an overload. Bluestreak’s optics were fixed on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. As were Ratchet’s, whose chin rested on Bluestreak’s other shoulder.

                “Feeling better?” Ratchet asked, once he saw Sunstreaker looking. Sunstreaker nodded sleepily, cuddling even closer to his brother.

                “Good. Sides, you think you have room for one more?” Ratchet asked, turning his attention to Sideswipe.

                Sunstreaker looked up at his twin to see his optics dull, then flash as he and Ratchet communicated over a private line. Sideswipe’s lips slowly curved up in a devious manner.

                “For that? Pit, yeah! Bring him over.”

                Confused, Sunstreaker watched as Ratchet crawled out from behind Bluestreak and stood at the side of the bed. Then he reached down and picked up Jazz, one hand under his knees and the other behind his back. Bluestreak seemed bemused, but willing to go along with whatever Ratchet had planned.

                Which apparently included dumping a still gasping Jazz in Sideswipe’s lap and then walking away.

                It was a bit of a tight fit. Jazz was the smallest of them all, but the chair wasn’t exactly made for three mechs. Fortunately, Sunstreaker and Jazz had collapsed into a puddle of limbs together before so it wasn’t a completely new occurrence.

                Jazz dazedly blinked at Sunstreaker while Sideswipe struggled to tug him into some semblance of a better position.

                “Hey,” Jazz said, finally rousing enough to move himself.

                “Hi,” Sunstreaker inanely answered back. “Do you know what Ratchet is doing?”

                “Na uh. Not a clue. Bet ya Siders does though, right, Sides?”

                Sideswipe’s attention turned away from watching Ratchet stalk Bluestreak. He arched an orbital ridge and smacked Jazz’s closest hip with a resounding clang.

                “I’m sorry, what did you call me?” Sideswipe asked quietly, giving Jazz the Look. Both Jazz and Sunstreaker quailed at the expression, even though Sunstreaker had no reason to. Sideswipe was pretty relaxed during sessions, but when he spoke with that soft, menacing tone, both of them knew he meant business.

                “I’m sorry, Sir, I apologize. I forgot myself,” Jazz immediately replied, respectfully dropping his gaze.

                “Hmph. You did just come out of an overload; I’ll forgive it this once,” Sideswipe said after a long moment of consideration.

                Jazz relaxed back against Sideswipe’s side. “Thank you, sir. You’re very generous.”

                “You’re welcome. And yes, I do know what Ratchet is doing, but it’d probably be more fun to just watch,” he said, pointing at the bed. Ratchet was standing at the edge of the berth, looming over Bluestreak with a smirk on his face. Bluestreak looked up at Ratchet through fluttering optic shutters, the coy expression seemingly natural.

                Sunstreaker knew Ratchet and Bluestreak still had sessions with one another on occasion. They were both very dominant personalities in the berth, but Bluestreak and Ratchet both liked to switch things up every now and then with each other. Sunstreaker had never seen that in action before, however.

                “Oh, frag,” Jazz whispered as Ratchet reached out and wrapped his big fingers around Bluestreak’s throat. Ratchet tugged and Bluestreak stood with the motion, sensor panels slowly waving. Bluestreak gave the three of them a secretive smile just before Ratchet sat on the berth and pulled Bluestreak into his lap. Bluestreak settled there lightly, his thighs spreading around the bulk of Ratchet’s waist. From behind, they could all see the shadowed place between Bluestreak’s thighs, glistening in the overhead light.

                “You don’t get the chance to see your Master giving it up often, do you?” Sideswipe whispered, stroking down Jazz’s side.

                “No. I wish I did; he’s so hot like that,” Jazz commented dreamily. Sunstreaker studied Bluestreak as he lifted up and tilted his hips forward, rubbing against Ratchet’s spike. Bluestreak was pretty enough and he and Sideswipe had learned a lot from him, but Sunstreaker had never burned for Bluestreak the way he did for Sideswipe.

                “He’s a good looking bot for sure,” Sideswipe replied mildly, echoing Sunstreaker’s thoughts. “You should know… he gave me free reign with you while he was otherwise occupied.”

                Jazz tore his gaze away from Bluestreak’s sensuous grinding to look questioningly up at Sideswipe. “Is there something you’d like me to do, sir?”

                Sideswipe shrugged. “I’m gonna leave that up to Sunstreaker.”

                Sunstreaker blinked in surprise when their heads turned to look at him. They both gave him expectant looks.

                “Uhhh… Sir?” Sunstreaker replied, uncertain what Sideswipe wanted him to do.

                “I thought you might like to have some time on top,” Sideswipe offered, his chin pointing at Jazz.

                Jazz’s engine flipped over with a stuttering purr as he gazed at Sunstreaker. He licked his lower lip and sat up, balancing on Sideswipe’s thigh.

                “Yeah, Sunny. Free reign includes you too. You could do anything you want with me. Take my mouth, my valve… whatever you’d like. Or you could just sit back an’ let me clean you up,” Jazz offered. He swiped his glossa across the pad of his thumb and then used the digit to smear aside a drop of Sideswipe’s transfluid from Sunstreaker’s thigh.

                Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, lips curling up in a silent snarl. “Leave it!” he barked, swatting at Jazz’s hand.

                That transfluid was _his_ , damn it. His reward. No one was going to take it away from him, unless it was Sideswipe himself.

                Jazz blinked in surprise but nodded amenably. He leaned back against the arm rest and stretched, showing off his lithe frame and prominent bumper.

                “No problemo. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Pit, we don’t have to do anything atumph!”

                Sunstreaker interrupted Jazz by leaning forward and roughly kissing him. As much as Sideswipe had seemed agreeable to keeping Jazz while Ratchet had his fun with Blue, Sunstreaker was a little irritated that the mech had interrupted their pleasant little cuddle session. Not that Jazz was the one who had initiated anything, but he was the one here, so Sunstreaker would take out his ire on him.

                Jazz practically vibrated in his plating as Sunstreaker bit his lower lip. He swiped away the faintest hint of energon with his glossa before deepening the kiss, forcing Jazz’s head back at an awkward angle. But Jazz just took it, humming eagerly in the back of his throat.

                He enjoyed being pushed around, physically manipulated by someone larger than himself. Bluestreak had been quite amused to see Jazz become so pliant around them, especially Sunstreaker. It certainly made for an interesting dynamic when Jazz joined the two of them.

                Still maintaining a liplock with Jazz, Sunstreaker twisted around and stood, bending a little. This forced Jazz’s helm nearly straight back and Sunstreaker took the opportunity to wrap a hand around his throat. Much like Ratchet had done to his Master.

                Jazz didn’t miss the significance. He moaned so loudly that Sunstreaker’s lips vibrated. Sunstreaker ran his glossa over the lower one when he drew back, observing Jazz’s heavily lidded optics beneath the visor.

                “You wanna get fucked like your Master is right now?” Sunstreaker whispered.

                Jazz jolted in place and his gaze traveled to the side, around Sunstreaker’s bulk. Sunstreaker shifted out of his view so he could see what Sunstreaker had already glimpsed. Bluestreak was flat on the berth now, one leg hiked over Ratchet’s shoulder. His wrists were pinned above his head by one of Ratchet’s hands as the medic thrust into him with long, deep strokes.

                “Yes… yes, please,” Jazz moaned, wriggling in place and staring longingly at Bluestreak

                Sunstreaker nodded and then looked up at Sideswipe. “Sir, could you help me…?”

                It didn’t take them long to arrange Jazz in Sideswipe’s lap. Jazz’s thighs were spread wide by Sideswipe’s knees, his valve completely on display. Sunstreaker would have to bend a little but that just meant he would be penetrating Jazz at a deep angle; he was sure Jazz wouldn’t mind.

                “Put your arms behind your back,” Sunstreaker instructed. Jazz complied so fast he nearly elbowed Sideswipe in the abdomen. Sideswipe took it in stride; he’d been wearing an amused and indulgent smile this entire time.

                “Sir, can you hold them there?”

                Sideswipe’s smile grew wider and darker. “Oh, absolutely, love,” he purred, directing the words against Jazz’s closest sensory horn. Jazz shuddered, although Sunstreaker couldn’t tell if it was due to Sideswipe grasping Jazz’s crossed forearms or the rumble of sound against the sensitive receiver.

                Sunstreaker reached forward and trailed a finger down Jazz’s wet slit. He met no resistance as he slid a finger into the entrance, so he added in a second. Jazz sighed in pleasure, melting back against Sideswipe’s chest.                

                “C’mon, I’m ready,” Jazz insisted, hitching his pelvis up in entreaty.

                Sunstreaker rolled his optics. Just as much of a hedonist as Sideswipe was, really. He slid in a third finger, finally feeling a little resistance in the walls of Jazz’s valve. It disappeared quickly though and Jazz just started impatiently rocking on Sunstreaker’s digits.

                “I’m gonna rust before you actually start fragging me!” Jazz complained.

                Sunstreaker stilled. He cocked his head to the side.

                “Are you sassing me?” he asked quietly.

                His ‘I Mean Business’ voice was good enough to make even Optimus Prime hesitate at times. Of course, this was Jazz. He’d seen Sunstreaker practically bent in two with Sideswipe’s fist up his valve and begging for more. Jazz knew that whenever Sunstreaker topped in a scene, it was actually just an extension of his role as a submissive. Sideswipe always lurked in the background, silently giving him direction and support.

                “Yup. Will it get you movin’ any faster?” Jazz replied, grinning cheekily.

                In response, Sunstreaker coated a fourth finger in lubricant and eased it in alongside the others. Jazz’s jaw dropped a little and his visor dimmed as his valve calipers fluttered and clenched around the invaders.

                “Hush, now, Jazz,” Sideswipe said softly against Jazz’s cheek. “He’s being a good dominant, taking care of you… making sure you’ll fit his spike.”

                “The two of you aren’t _that_ big!” Jazz gasped.

                Sunstreaker blinked and looked up at Sideswipe, an exciting prospect occurring to him. “The two of us, huh?”

                Sideswipe looked confused for a second before realization dawned. “Let’s not compare spikes. Let’s just work on fitting both of ours into this snug little valve of yours, hmm?”

                Jazz shivered, his visor flaring. “Oh, frag. _Frag_ , both of you?”

                “Ratch and Blue have double teamed you before, haven’t they?” Sideswipe asked, wrapping his arms around Jazz’s middle. After receiving Sunstreaker’s nod, Sideswipe leaned back and lifted Jazz higher up his body. Sunstreaker quickly grasped Sideswipe’s half pressurized spike and lined it up with Jazz’s entrance. He tapped his brother’s knee and Sideswipe lowered Jazz back down onto his lap, impaling him on Sideswipe’s spike.

                “Y-yeah,” Jazz replied, glancing a little nervously up at Sideswipe. “It put me pretty deep, just to warn ya.”

                “Consider us warned,” Sunstreaker said, a little distracted as he slid his index finger alongside his brother’s spike. Jazz took it easily, already stretched out to four of Sunstreaker’s fingers, side by side. The next finger met with a little more resistance as Sideswipe’s spike firmed completely.

                With the patience Sunstreaker normally only exhibited with his art, he worked Jazz open further, scissoring his fingers and thumbing Jazz’s anterior node. It didn’t take long for Jazz to start panting, his upper body shifting and twitching from stimulation.

                “Think he’s ready, Sunny?” Sideswipe asked after Sunstreaker slid three fingers out with relative ease.

                Sunstreaker nodded and stroked his own throbbing spike, slicking the surface. As Sunstreaker crouched a little to get closer, Jazz stirred.

                “Wait!” he called out and Sunstreaker stumbled backwards in a panic, thinking he had somehow done something wrong. Sideswipe’s foot reached out and hooked behind Sunstreaker’s calf, keeping him from going too far.  

                “Yes, Jazz?” Sideswipe asked, giving Sunstreaker a reassuring glance.

                “May I have my arms loose, sirs? Like Master?”

                The twins glanced over at the bed to see Bluestreak’s hands clawing at Ratchet’s back. If anything, it seemed like Ratchet had further slowed his speed, probably drawing out Bluestreak’s overload for some time now.

                Sunstreaker took pity on Jazz, knowing two spikes could be a lot. He’d want his hands free too. “Ok. Just this once.”

                Sideswipe released his grip on Jazz’s arms, and he immediately reached out to grab hold of the arm rests. He slumped back down against Sideswipe’s chest and looked up at Sunstreaker challengingly.

                “Well? What are you waiting for?”

                Rolling his optics at the impertinence (which Sunstreaker never displayed to Sideswipe, oh no), Sunstreaker moved closer with a little more confidence. The tip of his spike slipped in the copious amounts of lubricants seeping from Jazz’s valve and Sunstreaker had to steady himself with one hand. Then he pushed inwards, slowly, but inexorably.

                After several tense seconds, Sunstreaker popped past the ring of resistance and froze. Jazz’s valve rim fluttered madly behind the head of Sunstreaker’s spike and Jazz went still, his entire body tense. Sideswipe’s hand smoothed down Jazz’s abdomen, lightly stroking.

                “You’re good. You’ve done this before so you know you just have to relax. Take your time; we’re in no rush,” Sideswipe soothed. Jazz’s head bobbed up and down rapidly and he swallowed a few times before speaking.

                “Yes, Sir. I’m getting there.”

                To distract him, Sunstreaker gently brushed a thumb over the head of Jazz’s depressurized spike. His cover was open, and it was right there below the circular opening. A few passes had Jazz gradually relaxing. He licked his dry lips and looked up at Sunstreaker, giving him a subtle nod.

                Sunstreaker pressed forward again, lodging himself a few inches deeper. He paused, let Jazz adjust again, and continued on. It took a few minutes, but Jazz was finally able to take the full length of them both. By that point, Sunstreaker was shaking just as much as Jazz.

                As much as Jazz was right in front of him, he couldn’t ignore that it was his twin’s spike rubbing against his own. There weren’t many mechs who could, or wanted to, take them both, so they unfortunately didn’t do this frequently. But when they did, Sunstreaker always found a certain elation in sharing something as intimate as this with his brother.

                And Sideswipe was not unaffected either. Sunstreaker could see the tight grip Sideswipe had on Jazz’s waist, his overly bright optics. He was staring at Sunstreaker with so much naked adoration on his face that Sunstreaker had to look away for fear of drowning in his brother’s optics. He was in a position of physical control here; he was responsible for keeping Jazz safe, so he focused his attention on him.  

                “How’s that feel?” Sunstreaker asked, voice gone hoarse and gravely.

                “Nngh… good,” Jazz replied faintly, his visor completely dark. His fingers restlessly clenched and released against the chair’s armrests.

                “Great. I’m gonna… I’m gonna move now,” Sunstreaker informed them both, Jazz nodding in acceptance.

                “Do it, baby,” Sideswipe encouraged with an eager flash of his optics.

                With permission from them both, Sunstreaker drew back a little, carefully watching Jazz’s expression. He made a short little thrust and Jazz’s entire body arched off Sideswipe’s.

                “Oh, frag, yes, do that again!” Jazz exclaimed, his left hand scrambling to find a grip against Sunstreaker’s hip.

                Sunstreaker complied, carefully retreating and advancing in longer and longer strokes until he was finally moving smoothly. Jazz kept up a loud babble of pleas and encouragement, pelvis rocking into every one of Sunstreaker’s thrusts.

                “Oh, Primus… frag, I should… have done this… a lot sooner…!” Jazz said brokenly, body jolting every time Sunstreaker fully hilted himself.

                “You know where we live,” Sideswipe replied, licking a stripe up Jazz’s sensory horn. “Maybe next time… next time your Master can sit in the corner and watch.”

                Jazz moaned lowly, his valve clenching in a sudden strong pulse. “Please… oh, please, I want that…”

                “Blue is such a voyeur,” Sunstreaker commented, desperately trying to think of anything but the hot, wet clasp of Jazz’s valve and the hot, hard length of Sideswipe’s spike. Everything was hot. Jazz and Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker as well. He could feel condensation beading up and rolling down the plating of his chest and lower back, an irritating trickle.

                “I think it’s a dom thing,” Sideswipe said with a quirk of his lips up at Sunstreaker. “You know I love watching you writhe on our bed… legs spread and inviting… fingers clawing at the covers… you’re my favorite show, Sunny.”

                Jazz and Sunstreaker both groaned. You’d think Sunstreaker would be used to Sideswipe getting mouthy during interfacing, but it always sent a dark, tingling rush through his systems.

                “Stop it, Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker gasped, riding the sweet edge of release. He refused to give in, wanting Jazz to overload first. He pried his left hand off the arm rest and replaced it on Jazz’s spike, now hard and dripping. He squeezed once and stroked up roughly, making Jazz thrash in their arms.

                “Nngh… _yes_!” he cried out, his valve giving another throb.

                “Stop what, lover?” Sideswipe purred, giving Sunstreaker a filthy leer. “You don’t want me telling them how sexy you are? Baby, trust me… they’ve seen you… they already know. My gorgeous twin… my beautiful boy…”

                Sunstreaker abruptly leaned forward, pressing into Jazz’s bumper so he could reach over the mech’s shoulder to smash his mouth against Sideswipe’s. Sideswipe made a muffled sound of surprise, but kissed him back. The angle made it sloppy, more a biting of lips than a true kiss, but it caused Sideswipe’s engine to race in that special pitch which usually heralded his release.

                Sunstreaker only experienced a brief moment of smugness; the change in position pushed Jazz over the edge into a wailing overload and the sudden strong ripple of his calipers brought Sunstreaker along with him.

                His hips bucked, trying to push himself deeper as transfluid pulsed out from his spike. He shuddered as the intense wash of pleasure left him feeling weak and wobbly. His feet slowly but surely started to slip out from under him. Sideswipe reached out and grabbed at Sunstreaker’s hips, steadying him long enough so he could throw a knee up onto Sideswipe’s thigh to anchor himself.

                He desperately wished he could get even closer to his twin. But there was a whole other mech between them so he just moaned brokenly against Sideswipe’s lips, contenting himself with that familiar taste.

                “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Sideswipe muttered a moment later, ripping himself away from Sunstreaker’s mouth, neck arching backwards. Sunstreaker shuddered as he felt heat wash over the head of his spike, the added pressure making Jazz keen against Sunstreaker’s shoulder. He might have had another minor overload, or maybe the additional transfluid prolonged the first one, but Jazz’s valve continued to clench in arrhythmic waves until Sunstreaker started becoming hypersensitive.

                “I can’t…” Sunstreaker whined. He threw out a hand and scrambled at the back of the chair for support. Finally getting a good grip, he pushed himself up straight and slowly withdrew from Jazz. Several dribbles of transfluid spilled out of Jazz’s valve as he did so and Sunstreaker wobbled on his pedes as he panted and stared. Jazz’s valve was still contracting, a look of bliss on his face as he swiveled his hips, driving Sideswipe’s spike deeper.

                “That… was awesome,” Jazz said faintly. He trailed a hand down his abdomen to pet at his valve.

                “And see… you’re not even that deep,” Sideswipe commented faintly from where his head was resting on the chair back.

                “I wanted to watch Master,” Jazz replied, his visor flashing.

                A light touch to Sunstreaker’s back startled him and he turned his head to see Bluestreak standing just off to the side. His sensory panels were relaxed at his back and his stomach was streaked with transfluid, as if Ratchet had pulled out and overloaded onto him. Sunstreaker suddenly wished he had seen that.

                “Did you have a good time?” Bluestreak asked Jazz, sidestepping Sunstreaker. He held a hand out and Jazz struggled upright, Sideswipe gripping his hips and helping him.

                Jazz nodded as he took Bluestreak’s hand and stood, their transfluid trickling down his thighs. He wobbled even more than Sunstreaker had and nearly fell before Bluestreak caught him around the waist.

                “Best time,” Jazz said, nuzzling into Bluestreak’s throat. His engine revved and then settled into a purr. Bluestreak smiled a little, affectionately running a hand over the back of Jazz’s helm.

                “Excellent. Thank you for occupying him,” Bluestreak told Sideswipe. Sideswipe shook his head and pointed up at Sunstreaker, grinning a little.

                “Oh, that was all Sunstreaker. “We haven’t had anyone between us in ages; forgotten how good it was.”

                Sideswipe was sprawled out in the chair, his legs spread wide. His pelvis and upper thighs were covered in a mix of lubricant and transfluid and Sunstreaker wanted to drop to his knees and lick it all up. It would be a good way to end the evening, body buzzing and losing himself once more in a haze of service.

                “I’ll have to remember that. I’m sure Jazz wouldn’t mind a repeat sometime in the future,” Bluestreak commented, prompting Jazz to purr even louder in agreement. “But for now… how would you all feel about ganging up on Ratchet?”

                Sideswipe stretched his arms up above his head and then bounced to his feet like he wasn’t at all tired from several good overloads. Knowing him, he wasn’t.

                “I’m game. You wanna spike him while I sit on his face? The kids could have a hand a piece…” he suggested, pointing his chin at Sunstreaker and then Jazz. “… that should really blow his processor.”

                “We’re the same age,” Sunstreaker piped up, feeling a little miffed at being called a child.

                Sideswipe gave him the Look, and Sunstreaker ducked his head, tacking on a petulant ‘sir’. During Jazz’s double penetration, Sideswipe had pretty much slipped out of role and Sunstreaker had followed his lead. Apparently that was over now.  

                Bluestreak chuckled. “I think that sounds like a fine idea. Jazz? Sunstreaker?”

                “Sounds good with me,” Jazz murmured, still lazily draped over Bluestreak.

                Sunstreaker wavered. He really wanted to spend more time with Sideswipe, as he could never get enough of his twin’s attention. But then again… piling on top of Ratchet sounded fun too. 

                “Yeah, ok,” he finally said, nodding.

                “Sweet!” Sideswipe exclaimed. “~Oh, Ratchet~! We’re coming for you!”

                As Bluestreak directed Jazz towards the bed, Sideswipe slipped an arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulders. He leaned in, sweetly brushing his lips against Sunstreaker’s cheek before speaking quietly.

                “After this, we’ll clean up and head out, all right?”

                Thank Primus. And maybe then he could have some uninterrupted cuddle time with his brother.

                “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

                Sideswipe bopped Sunstreaker on the nose and gave him a cheeky smile before turning and launching himself onto the bed. He landed right in Ratchet’s lap, toppling them both backwards.

                “Primus take it, Sideswipe!” Ratchet growled, his pedes kicking. “Watch it!”

                “Mmm, old mech, that’s what I’ve been doing!” Sideswipe purred, wiggling his rear end in the air as he crouched over Ratchet. “I watched you plow into Bluestreak until he broke apart. Doncha want to feel the same?”

                Sideswipe rolled off Ratchet so that Bluestreak could come up behind them and smoothly grab Ratchet’s legs. He lifted them and placed them on the berth as Sideswipe gripped Ratchet’s shoulders and tugged him higher up the bed.

                Ratchet didn’t resist, looking from Bluestreak to Sideswipe and back. “You two think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

                “Learned from the best,” Bluestreak replied, throwing a knee up onto the bed and moving between Ratchet’s legs.

                “Now we’re gonna use what we learned,” Sideswipe added. He rose up on his knees and looked at Ratchet upside down. “I’d say I wanna hear you get loud from Blue fucking you, but I honestly rather get eaten out.”

                Ratchet raised his head a little and looked at Jazz, then Sunstreaker, as they also crawled onto the berth. “And do you two have a plan as well?”

                Sunstreaker tilted his head to the side and reached for Ratchet’s right hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing. He fluttered his optic shutters and affected a coy expression.

                It wasn’t as good as Bluestreak’s but Sunstreaker’d been practicing.

                “We’re just the subs, sir. We do what our tops tell us to do.”

                Sunstreaker raised Ratchet’s arm and then slipped his hand out of Ratchet’s to grasp his wrist. Sunstreaker’s thumb stroked up to the center of his palm, and holding Ratchet’s gaze, he leaned down to wrap his lips around Ratchet’s index finger.

                Ratchet’s optics spiraled wide and then darkened, the tip of his glossa wetting his lower lip.

                Medics’ hands were sensitive. Any good doctor was able to control their tactile input, although Sunstreaker knew Ratchet didn’t greatly increase his sensitivity unless he was in surgery. Still. Even on regular input, Ratchet felt through his hands more than most.

                “Sideswipe, you should count yourself lucky that your brother has such a good mouth, “Ratchet murmured.

                “He’s got a good everything,” Sideswipe purred and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the top of Sunstreaker’s helm. “You’d rather he suck your spike, maybe?”

                “I thought you and Blue were planning everything,” Ratchet replied. He reached his free hand up and gripped Sideswipe’s waist, tugging him backwards. “I’ll leave you two to your directives. Now get over here.”

                Sideswipe squeaked a little as Ratchet yanked him down onto Ratchet’s face. The adorable sound quickly morphed into a faint moan and his optics unfocused a little. Sunstreaker watched his brother’s face until his neck protested and then he devoted his attention to Ratchet’s hand.

                When Bluestreak eased into Ratchet’s valve, Sunstreaker let his optics slip closed. Maneuvering by touch alone, he slowly explored each and every joint of Ratchet’s fingers. He licked and nibbled, sucked and bit, slowly but surely falling deeper and deeper into a pervasive, quiet headspace. He heard the moans and cries of the mechs around him, a part of him a little more attuned to Sideswipe’s just in case there was a command mixed in there. But for the most part, he ignored them all.

                It was peaceful to rely on touch and sensation. It was comforting to serve.

                He only surfaced when there was a touch to his hip. The hand was a familiar shape and although there were no instructions along with it, it in itself was a demand. Sunstreaker opened his optics, leaving off Ratchet’s curled thumb with a pop of his lips.

                “There you are,” Sideswipe murmured, shuffling closer on his knees. He was kneeling next to Sunstreaker now; somehow he had missed Sideswipe’s overload. Pity. There were few mechs as uninhibited as his brother.

                “Doing ok?”

                Sunstreaker blinked at Sideswipe and nodded once, a little sleepily. A deep moan off to his right made him turn his head to see Jazz enthusiastically grinding on Ratchet’s spike, Bluestreak leisurely stroking in and out of Ratchet’s valve. They were kissing messily, Jazz’s head turned to the side so their lips could meet.

                Ratchet looked wrecked… his arms were akimbo, his face streaked with lubricants. His optics were heavily lidded and he watched Jazz with a laser focus.

                “I think you went down a little, huh?” Sideswipe commented, gripping Sunstreaker’s chin and turning his head back around. He tilted Sunstreaker’s head up, critically examining his face.

                “Yes, Sir,” Sunstreaker slurred, swaying a little as Sunstreaker followed Sideswipe’s pull. He pushed himself up onto his knees.

                “Oh, you definitely did… you’re dripping.”

                Sunstreaker whined as Sideswipe’s other hand suddenly stroked over Sunstreaker’s valve. Out of nowhere, lust slammed into him and his hips rocked urgently into the touch.

                Manual service always both revved him up and calmed him down. In the moment, he was completely focused on his partner’s pleasure. If he paused long enough however, his own desire would make itself known.

                With a vengeance.

                “Sir!”

                “You know, even I’ve lost count of the amount of overloads you’ve had tonight,” Sideswipe said idly. His hand stilled except for a single finger which slowly breached Sunstreaker’s valve. “And people say _I’m_ insatiable.”

                “You are, you hellion!” Ratchet gasped. The hand Sunstreaker had been servicing flailed a little bit before grasping Sideswipe’s thigh and digging in. “Let him come. He deserves it.”

                Sideswipe looked from Ratchet to Sunstreaker, arching an orbital ridge. “Oh… hear that? Our big bad grand-dom said I should let you come. What do you think about that?”

                The finger inched deeper and then withdrew, curling under Sunstreaker’s anterior rim. Sunstreaker wobbled on his knees and leaned forward, needing support. Sideswipe caught him around the shoulders and let him prop himself up in the crook of Sideswipe’s arm, his forehelm resting against his brother’s side.

                “Whatever pleases you most, Sir!” Sunstreaker gasped out when a second fingertip just grazed his node.

                “Mm, dangerous words, love… you know what would please me? You moaning into my mouth as I finish you off. Get up here and kiss me,” Sideswipe instructed.

                Sunstreaker surged up before Sideswipe had even finished speaking, plastering his mouth against Sideswipe’s. He let his twin set the pace for the kiss, slow and sensual. It matched the leisurely strokes of Sideswipe’s fingers inside Sunstreaker’s valve.

                His knees were wide enough apart to give Sideswipe’s hand access so had to strain his neck to reach Sideswipe’s mouth. His back ached a little from the position, especially after all the contortions he had put his body through tonight. He dared not complain however, not when Sideswipe was petting his side and lovingly stroking his glossa along Sunstreaker’s lower lip.

                Somehow Sideswipe knew though. Or maybe he was feeling a little weak himself from Ratchet’s administrations. He broke away from Sunstreaker, withdrawing his fingers with a little flick to disperse the excess lubricant.

                “Turn around, Sunstreaker. Aft on the berth and spread.”

                Sunstreaker eagerly complied, shifting around to do as his twin had instructed. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Jazz, limp and flopped down atop Ratchet’s front. Bluestreak had a look of concentration on his face as he continued to thrust into Ratchet, faster and more intently than before.                

                “Beautiful.”

                Sunstreaker thought Sideswipe was talking about Bluestreak, but when he looked up and over his shoulder, his twin was looking down at him, optics soft. He shuffled closer, pressing against Sunstreaker’s back and smoothing his hands down Sunstreaker’s arms. His own knees spread wide around Sunstreaker’s hips and he settled on the berth, one hand immediately diving between Sunstreaker’s thighs.

                He unerringly found Sunstreaker’s node and stroked it, making Sunstreaker shudder, knees trying to open even further. Sideswipe’s fingers made audible slick sounds against the metalmesh and Sunstreaker moaned, imaging his brother’s transfluid still dripping out of him and making a mess.

                Sideswipe’s other hand traveled back up Sunstreaker’s shoulder, lightly stroking his throat before clamping down on it. Sunstreaker’s optics rolled back in his head as Sideswipe tightened his hand, a spark of discomfort mixing with the sensations from his groin. Sideswipe’s hand loosened and tightened several more times, gripping harder with each squeeze until Sunstreaker’s HUD threw up warnings regarding the integrity of his vocorder.

                Sideswipe held him at that point for a long minute, the fingers of his other hand plunging in and out of Sunstreaker’s valve. Sunstreaker heard a rushing in his audials, his entire body coiling up in preparation for a climax. Whining piteously, he bucked his hips, wanting those fingers on his aching node so he could tip over the edge.

                “Nope. When I say so,” Sideswipe murmured. His fingers tightened a fraction more, making Sunstreaker’s next moan more of a squeak. Then he released him, gripping Sunstreaker’s chin and turning his head.

                Their matching heights and Sunstreaker’s helm fins made it difficult, but their lips managed to meet without anyone losing an optic. Although Sideswipe did gain a new scratch on his cheek. He didn’t seem to care. He fiercely kissed Sunstreaker, glossa slipping between Sunstreaker’s lips to flirt against his denta. Far too soon, he broke away enough to whisper against Sunstreaker’s cheek.

                “Now. Now you can overload for me.”

                Sideswipe’s fingers moved up, three of them centering over Sunstreaker’s anterior node and pressing. They made little circles over it, the motions slick and easy from all the fluids that had accumulated.

                Sunstreaker cried out at the sudden increase in pleasure, his body shaking. His optic shutters slamming shut, he blindly nuzzled at Sideswipe’s face until Sideswipe maneuvered his head just right so their mouths could meet again.

                He came like that; supported by Sideswipe’s chest, broken moans swallowed up by Sideswipe’s lips. His overload made him weak, his pelvis twitching with lingering sensation as Sideswipe lightly rested his fingers against Sunstreaker’s node and rocked them back and forth in tiny little motions.

                Sideswipe ended their kiss only to press his lips against Sunstreaker’s forehelm in a chaste little peck.

                “That’s my boy,” Sideswipe murmured.

                Sunstreaker didn’t think he could get any more limp, but the praise made him absolutely melt against his twin, trusting him to take his weight. He finally opened his optics, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The overhead lights seemed too bright and he turned his face to press it against Sideswipe’s cheek, although not before seeing Bluestreak withdraw from Ratchet’s valve, transfluid coating both of their thighs.

                Sideswipe slowly slid his hand down, easily slipping three fingers into Sunstreaker’s still weakly clenching valve.

                “Good?”

                “Yes, Sir,” Sunstreaker sighed against his twin’s plating. His body and his head were in a perfect state of contentment. “Thank you.”

                “You’re very welcome. Now let’s get you straightened up a little, ok?”

                Sunstreaker made a noise of protest, but reluctantly followed Sideswipe’s verbal instructions and guiding hands. Soon he was lying prone next to Ratchet, Sideswipe walking away to retrieve some cleaning supplies. He didn’t like being by himself at the moment so he instinctively rolled over and snuggled into Ratchet’s side. The medic lifted an arm and draped it over Sunstreaker’s shoulder, pulling him in closer. Across the broad expanse of Ratchet’s chest, he saw Jazz curled up much the same way.

                The smaller mech’s visor was offline and he ventilated slowly and deeply as if in recharge. One could never tell with Spec Ops mechs, but if Sunstreaker had to guess, Jazz was probably actually asleep.

                This time.

                “Do you need anything?” Ratchet’s hand comfortingly pressed against the middle of Sunstreaker’s back and he looked up to blink sleepily at him. He considered the question and then shrugged.

                “I don’t think so. But Sir will know if I do.”

                As if summoning him, Sideswipe walked up to the berth, Bluestreak pushing himself up onto his knees. Sunstreaker looked over his shoulder to see them better and watched Sideswipe hand over a pile of cleaning cloths. Bluestreak then crawled across Ratchet’s legs so that he could reach Jazz.

                “I know you’re probably comfortable, but you’re not gonna be happy when all of this dries on you. Sit up for me, Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe said, gently knocking the back of his knuckles against Sunstreaker’s hip.

                Sighing, Sunstreaker did as commanded, although it was with great reluctance. Sideswipe raised an orbital ridge at him, which incited him to move a little bit faster, but he wasn’t quiet with his displeasure when a cold, wet cloth was applied to his abdomen.

                “Oh, hush you,” Sideswipe scolded after Sunstreaker’s third cranky grumble. “And spread. Trust me, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

                Sideswipe wiped Sunstreaker down completely, including his valve. He even ordered him to stand up so he could reach the back of Sunstreaker’s thighs and aft. Once he was finished, he wiped away any stray moisture with a soft towel, which did actually feel nice.

                “Thank you. Now, drink this,” Sideswipe said, producing a cube of fuel out of nowhere. It was only when he saw it that Sunstreaker realized how empty his tanks were. He eagerly accepted the container and began to sip the energon, watching Sideswipe bundle up all the dirty cloths together. Sideswipe wordlessly accepted the ones Bluestreak handed to him and piled everything in the corner.

                Then while Sunstreaker worked on his cube, Sideswipe took a fresh damp cloth and knelt on the bed, joining Bluestreak in cleaning up Ratchet. Sideswipe took the top and Bluestreak the bottom, Sideswipe murmuring something to Ratchet and making him laugh.

                During it all, Jazz didn’t stir once, even after getting rolled away from Ratchet’s side twice.

                “He got a bit of a work out, didn’t he?” Sideswipe commented quietly, gesturing to Jazz.

                Bluestreak nodded. “This was basically an extension of a scene we started last night. I’d say he’ll recharge for several hours straight after this so I’m just going to sleep here with him. Are you two staying?”

                “You’re welcome to,” Ratchet added, patting the spot Sunstreaker had recently been occupying.

                Sideswipe looked over his shoulder at Sunstreaker, raising an orbital ridge in question. They didn’t stay with any of the others, at least not after they had stopped seeing Bluestreak. Although if Bluestreak loaned Jazz out for the night, he’d sometimes stay with them until Bluestreak came to collect him.

                Now that the last overload had faded from his system, Sunstreaker felt a little shyer. But he had enjoyed snuggling up to Ratchet in his twin’s absence. If Sideswipe were at his back, he thought he’d feel safe enough to recharge with all of the others. And he and Sideswipe could leave a little later and still have their time together. They had two back to back free shifts after all, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly.    

                So he nodded at Sideswipe’s silent question. He finished off the rest of his cube and then climbed back up onto the bed to resume his original position against Ratchet. Bluestreak laid down behind Jazz, tucking him into the curve of his body, his closest sensory panel settling over him and lightly laying on Ratchet’s chest. As Bluestreak got comfortable, Sunstreaker heard Sideswipe puttering in the background, putting away the rest of the dirty cloths and rinsing out Sunstreaker’s energon cube.

                After a while, Sunstreaker couldn’t figure out what Sideswipe was doing. His back was getting cold and there was no way he’d be able to slip into recharge without his twin there.

                _Is this session over?_ Sunstreaker asked. It was extremely rare for them to use the bond during a scene, but he also felt odd dropping completely out of role to ask, especially in front of others.

                _Do you want it to be? I can always extend it to tomorrow like Bluestreak did with Jazz._

                Sunstreaker considered it. It would be a unique experience. But he kind of had already had one of those today.

                _I think I’m good with it ending here._

 _Ok then. Scene over_ , Sideswipe announced, still doing something mysterious on the other side of the room.

                _Great. Then can you come to bed? The invitation was for both of us and my back is cold._

_Oh no, your back is cold? Let me rush right on over!_

                Sunstreaker growled lightly at Sideswipe’s flippancy, but then a moment later a familiar frame crawled into the remaining space on the bed. Sideswipe wound himself around Sunstreaker, a knee slipping between his thighs. As Sunstreaker’s head fins made it difficult to sleep on his side, he had had laid down mostly on his stomach. So when Sideswipe snuggled close, he practically draped himself over Sunstreaker’s back.

                It was surprisingly comfortable and his dorsal plating finally stopped crawling. 

                “All good?” Ratchet asked quietly, in deference to the couple on his other side.

                Sunstreaker nodded, not bothering to even raise his head. Behind him Sideswipe shifted a little, maybe looking at Ratchet.

                “Yup. We’ll stay a bit, but eventually head back to our quarters in another hour or so,” Sideswipe informed him. “Got some non-scene plans for him.”

                This close, Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe’s spark pulse a slow, heavy beat and his vents caught. He really hoped that meant what he thought it did.

                “Hopefully good plans,” Ratchet commented.

                “Twin things. Now shut up and let me sleep,” Sunstreaker said imperiously, poking Ratchet in the side. “I’m gonna need a nap.”

                His frame had gotten a work out tonight, and his mind had been on a bit of a roller coaster. Of course Sideswipe knew that the perfect way to bring it all together would be a deep merge. Preferably right after a full clean.

                Because Sideswipe had been right. Sunstreaker’s plating was already a little itchy from the leftover specks of fluids Sideswipe had missed.     

                “…twin things,” Ratchet repeated dubiously. “Well, enjoy and you’re welcome to leave whenever you feel like it. Thanks for coming tonight, Sunstreaker.”

                Sideswipe burst out laughing, quickly burying his face against Sunstreaker’s nape. Sunstreaker heaved an exasperated sigh. _He_ knew Ratchet hadn’t meant it as a pun, but whereas Sunstreaker turned cuddly and mellow after a scene, Sideswipe often got a little giddy and energetic.

                “Or you could leave now,” Ratchet added, shifting his arm enough to swat Sideswipe upside the helm.

                “Mm, naw, I’ll be good,” Sideswipe promised, the giggles dying down. “Sunny’s right. A nap sounds great. Thanks for having us, Ratch.”

                Then he burst out into giggles again, snorting a little. “Get it… because you technically had both of us?”

                “Oh, for…”

                Sunstreaker squirmed around and hauled Sideswipe into his arms, roughly pressing Sideswipe’s face into Sunstreaker’s chest. Maybe smothering him would help. “Shut up…idiot.”

                Sideswipe subsided after a minute, wriggling out of Sunstreaker’s grip. He nuzzled Sunstreaker’s cheek and lazily mouthed at his jaw. When Sunstreaker started stroking Sideswipe’s back, he abruptly went limp and heavy on top of him.

                _You need anything?_ Sideswipe asked, his processor focused, as always, on Sunstreaker. _Do you really wanna nap or did you want to talk about things?_

_Nap, actually. We can talk in the washracks._

                Sunstreaker’s optic shutters felt heavy and lethargy started weighing his limbs down. Now that Sideswipe was finally calming, Sunstreaker found that a nap really _was_ an option.

                _Ok. So we’ll recharge for a bit, then we’ll hit up the washracks so I can rinse you down completely,_ Sideswipe listed. _I know we could always grab a cube from Ratchet, but I have that energon mix you like already made up in our room… you know, the one with the copper and cadmium additives?_

 _Mm,_ Sunstreaker replied absently. Apparently even if his body had finally stopped moving, Sideswipe’s processor was still going strong. Well, he’d fizzle out eventually.

 _So after the washrack, we’ll get fueled up. I wouldn’t mind another round of fragging if you were up for it. Or not, that’s fine too. But I want your spark,_ Sideswipe continued.

                Sunstreaker sighed, resting his cheek against the top of Sideswipe’s helm. _You always have it,_ he replied sleepily.

                Sideswipe was silent for so long Sunstreaker thought he had actually fallen into recharge. Just when Sunstreaker was nearly completely under, Sideswipe proved he wasn’t quite there yet.

                _And you have mine._

         

~ End

               


End file.
